Hallelujah Moment!

 

As we enter the month of December a memory comes to mind that I can't shake. I was asked the question ~ tell me about a tradition that formed who you are today. In a flash my mind's eye saw--little me holding one of those skinny lit candles with the cardboard drip guard, belting out Hallelujah with a congregation thousands strong. 

I was born and raised Reformed Mennonite (yes, I had electricity, no I did not drive a horse and buggy). Reformed Mennonite folks are in general humble and pious people who never sing at the top of their lungs--except on Christmas Eve! On that one night a year heaven came down to earth, truly! Celebrating like that until I was well into my teens, was the truest expression of love, peace and goodwill to all that I was yet to know. On the altar was a lighted candle and from it, a flame was passed, one by one to our neighbor, perhaps a loved one or a total stranger. In a matter of minutes, lights multiplied and a community was born. Light of goodness within each person was acknowledged--no exception, no one left out or disparaged. We shone so bright, so beautifully. A Hallelujah moment was born! 

Now, bringing this Hallelujah moment down into the concrete...watching the news of late, I see division, looting, fear and violence. Inside I ask myself the question--where are the Hallelujah moments--moments of rejoicing in the love, peace and goodwill expressed in us? How are we acknowledging? Stoking? Lighting these flames? I don't recognize the streets of our cities. I've never seen such levels of violence, greed and despair. Our spiritual dimension seems void and lacking. 

I am committed in the month of December to pass the lighted candle, sing and rejoice in what is good and beautiful. If you are in need of a Hallelujah moment, please come visit with me. Shine the light of compassionate awareness on any situation that weighs upon your beautiful spirit. I am at The Studio Tuesdays and Thursdays and would enjoy a chance to pass flames, to shine and rejuvenate, to bring Tahoe heaven down to earth. Zoom is also an option if it suits you best. Please contact me for an appointment to care for your spirit or as a gift to a loved one. May your light shine bright this holiday season and may you pass that light to all you meet.

Related Blog Articles: Double Belonging 

Search for Wise Compassion

 

When dealing with supporting loved ones in recovery, wise compassion vs idiot compassion seems a constant contemplation. The above quote guides our practice. How do we know our actions toward our addicted loved one, or anyone for that matter, are ultimately helpful? Two North Stars seem key:  

1)  True compassion knows ~ it's not just about the addict - the fallout from addiction is massive. True compassion supports not only the addict but those impacted by the addiction ~ especially vulnerable populations such as elders and children. Can we see with a broad, compassionate gaze that provides equal care to all those on the journey, including ourselves? 

2) True compassionate action addresses roots - every action should seek to help identify and heal the roots of addiction, not cover up, put our heads in the sand or become a co-conspirator. The roots may even have to do with us. Getting more and more real with ourselves, takes honesty and courage. 

For wise compassion to arise, seeing our loved ones, our precious, "flowers," in recovery as not separate seems foremost:

The flower is made of non-flower elements. There is nothing that is not present in the flower. We see sunshine, rain, clouds, the earth, we also see time and space in the flower. A flower, like everything, is made entirely of non-flower elements. The whole cosmos has come together in order to help the flower manifest herself. The flower is full of everything except one thing: a separate self, a separate identity. The flower cannot be by herself alone. The flower has to inter-be with the sunshine, the cloud and everything in the cosmos. If we understand being in terms of inter-being, then we are much closer to the truth.

"No Death, No Fear" by Thich Nhat Hanh

We are non-flower elements--may we be wise, compassionate gardeners, practicing tending our loved ones and family members skillfully: extracting weeds, being sunshine, rain, clouds on this recovery journey. 

                                              Image: Life Finds a Way: 25 Plants That Won't Give Up!
 

 

Kindness In The Small

The other night working a packed mental health wing, I got to pondering....

Kindness In The Small

©2021 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Have you ever noticed, when walking down the road without sidewalks,

that cars naturally give space to avoid running over you?

When plate or cup is scalding hot, 

the waitress warns everyone.

If arms are carrying a full load, 

people step-in to open doors.

Something is dropped,

and everyone in vicinity bends to pick it up.

A person unburdens great heartache

and surrounding eyes go moist.

Someone smiles and suddenly 

the corners of our own mouths upturn.

Countless times a day

in countless ways,

“Please, you first... 

May I help you?

I feel your pain...I see your joy.” 

I can’t help but wonder

in this time of social distancing 

If we aren’t masking our beautiful, 

innate tendencies

to reach out.

Perhaps, it is the small,

seemingly insignificant, quiet kindness

that gives meaning to our lives.

Catching the Nature of Water

For those of us supporting loved ones in the cycle of addiction and recovery, there are often pain-staking moments. I'm in one of them right now, as I await confirmation that my loved one is safely in custody. I decided to do walking meditation during these tense moments, as my mind kept returning to the what-ifs and that thinking was not in any way helpful to myself, my family or my loved one.

While walking in the autumn garden, I was kept good company by streams of water trickling off the roof of my house after our first snowfall yesterday. The sun happily melted the snow into pure sparkling water ~ very precious in this time of drought. I was transported back in time to the day that I learned the depths of my loved ones addiction. I was sitting in my living room with bright sun and blue skies. It was springtime and snowmelt poured, actually gushed, from my rafters. I was on the phone, listening to my loved one and my breath was completely inaccessible. My sliding glass door was open and I could hear the melting snow, gurgling and splattering. So, every time my mind descended into panic, I returned to the sound of running water, sun and blue sky. Given my training and background, I know this comes very close to "disassociation." I call it saving my sanity--on that day, water, sun and sky became my breath, my anchors. Clear water, warm sunshine, and spacious sky, held me and my loved one in a fuller picture of reality. 

So today, during walking meditation, I notice a similar melt but it is a mere trickle. Yet, water seems to sing, "catch my precious, precious lifeforce." I slowly walk into the house and gather containers. I prop them carefully so as to catch the clear running streams. As I do, I pray for my family, all families and the amazing people who are by our loved ones sides: encouraging, feeding, sheltering, loving ~ gathering the seemingly impenetrable melt, the trickle of life that we have to work with.

Often in the cycles of use and recovery, we convince ourselves there is nothing left. I am here to say ~ life is always there. We, as compassionate care-takers must tend, gather, use and grow the precious drops. 

As I finish walking meditation and gathering the containers, I water my happy indoor plants. I sit down to write and move this energy. A message comes through. My loved one is safe, secure, protected. 

Breathing in, I offer immense gratitude;
Breathing out, may all remember their water nature,
the thaw that always comes in the light
of gentle and compassionate awareness.    

When Breath Triggers

 

Hello, Resilient Ones, who have survived pandemic, smoke-filled skies and evacuations! The impact of fire season goes beyond...so beyond the boundaries of the western states.

Fires near my local Lake Tahoe home town have been burning since June, with the latest and closest being the Caldor Fire, over 70% contained, yet still smoldering and affecting air quality ~ that’s over 4 months of smoke and altered light. Gratefully, homes were not lost in my community but the forests literally out our back doors have been greatly impacted.

For those in fire zones across the US—breath—the primary anchor when practicing mindfulness is often triggering. I speak from personal experience and listening to people again and again ask, “How can I focus on my breathing when it’s compromised?” 

Masks restricted our oxygen intake, now smoke—what can we do when breath becomes triggering? Here’s the good news, there are many anchors beside breath to help bring our mind back to our bodies, and they are only limited by imagination:

* Sounds - bird song, the sound of the bell, the fan in the air purifier (!), music

* Sights - petals of a flower, the face of a beloved one, moonlight, patterns of tree bark 

* Taste - sipping tea, chewing gum, a favorite meal, freshly tooth-brushed mouth 

* Smell - essential oils, a pot of soup, fresh squeezed lemon, wet earth

* Touch - soft fur of an animal companion, body-heat, souls of feet on the stable floor

Personally, my favorite go-to during the months of fire has been touch as a practice anchor, because it’s the only sense not overly impacted by fire conditions. Ears are assaulted by helicopters overhead dropping water and retardant and the eerie absence of forest creature sounds, smoke-haze fills sight, taste, smell, but smoke does not impact touch, so it seems an important key anchor when we are living mindfully in fire zones.

A friend recently shared in community that one day, when air quality was well over 1,000, her mind “just kind of snapped.” She gathered her dog, got in the car and started driving west on the highway. After an hour and a half, she realized she had not grabbed a single thing, no clothes, food, she had only taken her wallet and dog. “I felt like a wild animal, I just had to get away.” All of us listening understood. Our body wisdom knows—when breath is compromised it is not safe, we should leave, take flight and find clearer air to breathe. 

Fortunately, our blue sky moments this week were more than half the days as fires calm and cool with the start of Autumn. Breathing clean air is a true source of joy. Through applied practice of mindfulness during major fire, I’ve come to understand very deeply ~ clean air is an irreplaceable resource, deeply appreciated and respected as triggering when it is not plentiful. Working with other anchors besides breath expands sense perceptions and grows gratitude. Clean and unobstructed air is everything.  

Malala ~ She Who Hears the Cries of the World

In the Zen tradition there's a figure called Avalokiteshvara, described as the embodiment of compassion. This being is known by other names: Kwan Yin, Mother Mary, and is said to transcend the idea of gender, race or creed. A translations of her name is, "she who hears the cries of the world." One beloved image is her sitting in water/moon pose ~  a very relaxed posture with one foot pulled up comfortably, yet ready to propel her upward for action, and the other touching the earth, grounded in solidity. The first time I heard Malala Yousafzai speak, the image on the right ~ water/moon was what I envisioned. 

Malala was 14 years old at the time of her unfortunate introduction to the world, having been shot by the Taliban in Pakistan for going to school. The world seemed to wake up overnight as we watched her struggle for life. Malala was highlighted in my Freedom Series tab in the first blog post in 2012 commending her amazing spirit: "There is this quality in me--I'm ready in all situations." 

Since then, brave and fearless Malala Yousafzai has stepped out of her relaxed childhood identity with both feet touching the earth, responding to the cries of the world, specifically to the voices of women and girls in the Middle East. 

She reported a few weeks ago, "On August 9 in Boston, I woke up at 5:00 am to go to the hospital for my latest (6th) surgery and saw the news that the Taliban had taken Kunduz, the first major city to fall in Afghanistan," she writes. "Over the next few days, with ice packs and a bandage wrapped around my head, I watched as province after province fell to men with guns, loaded with bullets like the one that shot me."

In my first blog post, Malala spoke of a quality that is ready in any circumstance. What is this quality? It is a heart of great compassion. For many years, I've studied the quality of compassion and never has it been needed like right now. All around is epic suffering: pandemic, record drug overdoses, suicides, forest fires raging 15 miles away as I type this. What is this quality that is ready? A compassionate heart turned towards suffering, meeting it head on, rather than turning away. 

A heart of great compassion resides in those who hold a posture of open-hearted awareness, refusing to be hardened--knowing that to turn towards our pain is the most direct path to freedom and liberation. It does not work, obviously, to anesthetize, isolate, and separate.

Malala's response to what she sees going on around her, grows my own capacity to respond, "Nine years later, I am still recovering from just one bullet. The people of Afghanistan have taken millions of bullets over the last four decades," Yousafzai writes. "My heart breaks for those whose names we will forget or never even know, whose cries for help will go unanswered."

Malala, you enter the stream of spiritual and blood ancestors who embrace this walk of deep listening and responding with a heart of compassion. I am renaming you, "She Who Hears The Cries Of The World." 

Will we wake up alongside you? Will we allow our hearts to soften, open, grow and be moved? 

Artist: Seol Min, Korean nun

 

When Sunflowers Refuse to Open

When Sunflowers refuse to open, you know something is askew. For those of us living in Northern California (Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Colorado...), this summer has been particularly challenging as fires erupt in the four directions. Nature has a way of speaking wisdom, and on this particularly day, it came in the form of Sunflowers. As friends text pictures of dark, foreboding skies from yet another fire 19 miles away, I decided instead, to write a poem. Please enjoy...and...as of today (four days later), skies have cleared and it was the first blue sky we had in weeks ~ the sunflowers began to open....Ahhhh, impermanence!

When Sunflowers Refuse to Open

August 15, 2021

©2021 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

 

Dixie and Tamarack Fires, 

still burning 

and the newest, just yesterday, Caldor.

Days pass in wane-attempt of salmon sun—

unfamiliar neon ball, sometimes seen, sometimes unseen,

impossible for sunflowers to find, track and follow,

buds stay closed, in stunted, suspended states,

waiting….

 

Impossible to find, track and follow,

I, too, curl-in with barely my bright parts out,

turn from faraway sun, 

stay indoors as advised,

squint through smoke

and failing light.

 

Yet, everyday, at least once, 

I leave the closed up house,

visit the garden,

refill bird feeder,

refresh shallow pond.

 

Smokey in-breaths, smokey out-breaths, 

ash falls like snow  

as I water sunflowers, and,

insights come—

every material thing is replaceable.

But what of safety? Clean water? Fresh air? 
Healthy body and stable mind? 

We’ve got to change how we’re doing things.

Heart opens as I contemplate, how?

 

In mind’s eye, another flower appears—Fireweed— 
It pops up like a prophet: tall, slender, bright fuchsia.

It lives in colonies, is hardy and thrives in areas of burn.
“I wish it were called Fire-blossom,” says a dear friend,

“We mistakenly call the elegant weeds.”  

 

Internal Fire-blossom, show us the way.

How you have learned to survive, 

so beautifully.